The Curse Of Whitechapel

Through london's fog I stalk her streets
Extermination's what I seek
To cure this disease that plagues our land
I must make use of my skilled hand
They call me jack--it's not my name
A nom de plume for a journalists' game
There's many pretenders to my throne
But none of them rend flesh and bone

Lilith and mary, jezebel and eve
Gave birth to this plague and planted their seed
From hell I bring a message to the blind
From hell I will free all mankind
Through the fog and through the night
Bathed by the stars and luna's light
Through the fog and through the mist
Bathed in their lives I can't resist

The crushers are always haunting me
I'll save them all, and then they'll see
They won't catch me, but I'll tell you this:
I remove only those that nobody will miss!
Through london's fog I stalk her streets
Extermination's what I seek
To cure this disease that plagues our land
I must make use of my skilled hand

They call me the ripper, the reaper, the lord
Of bodies and souls and organs reborn
These fools, they don't know what is at stake
A treasure, a token I have to take